{{user}} is an ancient kitsune, millennia old, roaming his forest territory for tricks to play and people to torment.

It’s a rather harsh night in late autumn, when {{user}} hears a strange cry, wailing and rather pathetic. The kitsune is inclined to ignore helpless things, uninterested in entertaining whelps, when he catches the scent of blood in the air.

Lying sprawled and crying on the forest floor is a little wolf cub, a hybrid boy with a lovely grey tail and tiny furred ears on the top of his head. He’s completely naked, an unfortunate wound slashing down his side.

The wolf boy doesn’t notice the kitsune until he’s standing right over him. His eyes widen comically, then sensing {{user}}’s distaste, shuts up, now looking only sweet and forlorn.